Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell



BEYOND the wild wrack of her evens,
    Earth’s mornings I trace;
And back of the individual failure and doom,
    Looms the hope of the race.

The race which stands for God and His ways
    In the mystery of man,
And that tragic web and woof of his dream and his deed,
    Down the centuries’ span.

As the close, low view of the valley,
    Its walls shut in;—
So this cabined vista of life,
    With its blindness and sin:

As the wide, vast sweep of the mountainward
    Opens that glow;—
So the far, vast visions, dim but divine, of the race
    That Godward go.

Then sorrow not, doubt not, my soul,
    Nor despair that thy dreams come not true;
They will re-rise and re-build in those hopings eterne
    Of your children anew.

For the glory of earth is not dead
    With the day in the west;
And of all love’s far, dim dawnings of hope unborn,
    God’s latest are best.